ARTicles vol. 3 i.1b: John Kani: A Passion for the Truth

RW: How has your role as an artist changed since the end of apartheid in 1994? JK: Pre-1994, all black South African artists were aware that our number one responsibility was to live in a free and democratic South Africa. So whatever kind of artists we were – painters, musicians, sculptors, poets, or actors – our work somehow echoed our desire and passion for freedom. In 1994 Nelson Mandela became the first president of South Africa. That neutralized a number of scripts in the process of being written or about to be presented that were still demanding the freedom of black people. When the Iron Curtain fell in Eastern Europe, activists who had been famous because they were anti-communist became relatively ordinary people. South Africa went through something similar from 1994-1997. In 1998, we began to find our voices again. We began to understand that yes we have a black or majority government, yes we have a government we have appointed with a president or presidents we like, but our role as actors or artists has not ended. We still continue to be the voice of the conscience of our society. And we have also been liberated to do No, No, Nanette without feeling guilty about neglecting the cause! RW: Nothing But the Truth is the first play you’ve written on your own. Why did you write it now and not ten years ago? JK: Ten years ago I had a number of different roles. I was a political and cultural activist, working on government and community projects to establish structures that would serve artists and communities. I led the Market Theatre [in Johannesburg] as the Executive Director/Artistic Director. I was the Founding Chair of the National Arts Council from 1996-2004. And I was also the Founding Chair of the Apartheid Museum. But now I’ve found the time at last to go back my favorite pastime, which is storytelling. My passion for storytelling is the reason I met Athol Fugard in 1965. When I saw his company perform Antigone, I thought that Sophocles was a very good storyteller. And I read Shakespeare – I’m a great student of Shakespeare. He is just like all the great storytellers of Africa, especially South Africa – people like S.E.K. Mqhayi and Zakes Mda. RW: In 1975 you won the Tony Award for your performance in Sizwe Banzi is Dead. What do you remember most about your collaborations in the 1970s with Athol Fugard and Winston Ntshona on Sizwe and The Island? JK: The passion for the truth. Three men locked the door and elaborated on a tiny idea inspired by a photograph of a man in a white suit with a cigarette and lit pipe in a little African studio, where he took the picture to send to his wife or relative. But out of that came the most telling story of the South African people under the Apartheid regime. Out of that also came a new genre of theatre for South Africa that was later known as protest theatre, which became the voice of South Africa. I remember those moments with incredible fondness. I look at the way we work today in the twenty-first century with some kind of lukewarm caution. Things are relatively right. One almost wishes that they would get terribly wrong so we could again approach our art with that kind of fever and passion and immediacy. That does not mean we cannot do that. We have now found a new language, a new way of telling our stories, which still gives us the feeling of passion and commitment to our work. RW: You have performed Nothing But the Truth in New York and are currently performing in Los Angeles. How has the reception there been different from its reception at home? JK: The play examines a very sensitive reality for South Africa: reconciliation. The world applauds South Africa for having opted to go that way rather than tribunal hearings, retributions, and revenge. But in the people’s hearts there was that little question: what if I could have been given just one opportunity to take my little revenge, even if it meant just slapping the man who killed my brother, without doing anything? That created such a wonderful interaction with the audience in South Africa. It’s almost like everybody said, “You said exactly what I’ve been trying to articulate.” And some said, “Yes, but I agree with you we needed to move forward.” When Nelson Mandela saw the play he said to me, “A great family drama. A great human story. Political, but great human drama.” Then we opened in New York, where we played to wonderful audiences at Lincoln Center. But what was not present there was how it touched the hearts of the South African people who suffered and went through that journey. I’m very pleased with its reception here in Los Angeles. We have played to many members of the African American and Latin American communities. And everybody says it is the right play at the right time. People are talking about the role of family in the play. They’re talking about gang wars. They’re talking about the wars that are taking place right now. They’re talking about this country. And they’re talking about family secrets. RW: What role do you think U.S. government policy plays in the political landscape of South Africa and, more generally, across the continent? JK: The big economic powerhouses of the world are very important to Africa. African countries owe a great debt, not of gratitude really, but of dependency to the giant economic houses. The biggest item on our budget is the country’s debt to the United States, England, Germany, France, the World Bank, and the IMF. That is why my president is passionate about finding a way to write off or reduce that debt in order to allow Africa to begin rebuilding itself economically. But we spent most of our resources paying the debt that we inherited from the colonialists and imperialists who occupied our land. Therefore, the role of the United States is very important, especially in South Africa. Many major companies like Ford, Chrysler, and IBM are creating work in South Africa and investing in the country. So we play a very careful game on the issues of Iraq or Afghanistan or Palestine. Nelson Mandela made it very clear that we could be friends with the United States, but that their enemies are not necessarily our enemies. RW: What do you envision for yourself as an artist and for the country in the next ten years? JK: In the coming decade we need to consolidate the achievements we have made in the first ten years of our democracy. We need to make our structure stronger, to create opportunities for artists on all levels and in all disciplines. We also need to make sure there are training academies available around South Africa that can accommodate the wishes and aspirations of young people who want to become artists, writers, painters, or sculptors. We need to create vibrant film, television, and theatre industries so that we do not look up to Hollywood as the only solution for our dreams and the only way our stories can be told. We also must encourage the wonderful philanthropists within South Africa to develop a culture of giving to the arts. And the government needs to give some tax incentive or write-off for those who give to the arts. As for myself, I will continue acting and writing. I have many, many stories that at the age of 61 I need to tell to my children and grandchildren. RW: Thank you very much, John. I’m really looking forward to your visit to the A.R.T. JK: See you in Boston. I know the Red Sox won! RW: Yes, it’s taken over the town. JK: It should! After 86 years! It’s a long time. What do you call yourself? A baseball team in dreams! RW: I think it’s more than a dream now. JK: Finally! I’m rooting for the Red Sox.